Eternity
by JoeyBug
Summary: Will House risk his life to save his leg? Will Wilson support him at his time of need? Established relationship. Hurt/Comfort. Angst. Set after House leaves rehab. AN: Beta susiecrabtree SPOLERS: Three stories, Honeymoon & Tritter arc. SLASH
1. Falling

It started out like any other day. House awoke to the sound of Wilson's hairdryer. It had been the norm for the past few weeks, ever since Wilson had met House outside rehab and told him that he was moving back in with him.

Sure, House had protested, but then Wilson had kissed him in the middle of the PPTH car park, for the whole world to see. It was then that he knew for certain that there was no point in trying to hide it. He loved Wilson and Wilson seemed to love him back. What was the point in arguing with what was already set in stone?

So, House had returned to his apartment to find that Wilson had already moved in, bringing over his stuff from the hotel room. There was no longer a suitcase with Wilson's clothes, but part of his chest of drawers and wardrobe had been reorganized, and now contained Wilson's clothes too. The dreaded hairdryer had come along with him as well, as House had discovered on the first morning home. Cuddy had given him a week to get his act together and then he was due back at work. He'd gone back two weeks ago and life had returned to what resembled normal in House's world.

"Do you have to use that thing at this ungodly hour of the morning?" House barked at Wilson from the doorway of the bathroom.

"You ask me the same question every morning and I give you the same answer."

"Which is?"

"That it's 8am, you should already be up and if you were up you would have had your coffee by now and be less of a grouch."

"You're deluded if you think coffee is going to make me any less of a grouch," House huffed.

"I know, but I can dream," Wilson replied before switching off the hair dryer and leaning over to kiss House. "Good morning."

"Whatever," House moaned, heading to the kitchen to see if Wilson had at least put some coffee on before he began his morning preening. He silently thanked the Gods when he saw the coffee pot percolating. He could have his morning coffee and some Vicodin, which would hopefully silence the sound of Wilson and his morning routine.

"Do you want the shower, House?" Wilson called out from the bathroom as House took a sip of the too hot coffee.

"Yeah, and I don't want company before you get any ideas," House shouted back. He left his coffee on the counter and headed to the bathroom, where Wilson was just finishing up.

He gave Wilson a quick kiss as he exited the bathroom, locked the door, switched the shower on and began to undress. He sighed as he stepped under the hot spray, which began to ease the ache in his thigh borne from sleeping all night. The Vicodin should have been doing its job and easing any discomfort House felt, but for some reason it wasn't doing much.

House tipped his head back under the spray, washing the sleep out of his eyes and tentatively flexing his right leg to try and avert the cramp he could feel coming.

That didn't do anything and it almost paralyzed him as it hit. He could feel his balance shifting and before he could stop himself he was falling, hitting his head on the wet, cold tiles as he fell. The last thing he saw before blackness overtook him were the tiles coming up to face him.

Wilson heard the crash of House falling as he was walking from the kitchen to the living room, he was carrying a cup of coffee, dressed and ready for work. He knocked on the bathroom door. "House? What are you doing in there? It sounds like a herd of elephants!" Wilson joked through the door, when he didn't get any reply he started to worry. He set his cup down and banged on the door some more. "House? Are you okay in there?" The shower was still running, but he heard no reply from House.

Wilson tried the door, it was locked. "House! House, answer me!" he called again, starting to panic. He took a deep breath and rammed his shoulder against the door…nothing happened except he probably bruised his shoulder. He tried again and again, eventually taking a run at the door which caused the lock to pop and the door to swing open.

His eyes took in the scene before him, House lying unconscious under the spray of the shower, his head was blocking the drain and the water had pooled under him. Wilson took large steps towards him; turning off the shower once he reached House, and then bent down to tend to House.

First, he gently lifted House's head and let the water run down the drain, then he started to check House over, putting his fingers against House's neck to check his pulse, which was fast and thready, but present, and right now Wilson was more worried about House's state of consciousness than anything else. He checked his pulse again, and his breathing. Satisfied he was breathing on his own, Wilson carefully put House's head back down, only adjusting him slightly to ensure his airway remained open while he left to get his cell phone and bag.

Once he got back to House, he placed a cloth over the cut on his head where he'd hit the tiles and gently shook him. "House? Can you hear me?" he said, loudly. "I'm gonna give you five minutes and then I'm calling the paramedics and I know how much you hate the fuss."

He pulled out his blood pressure cuff and put it round House's arm, pressing a stethoscope to the crook of his arm to listen to his pulse. He inflated the cuff to get a reading, it was barely 90/60 and Wilson decided, conscious or not, House needed to be in hospital.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911. After a short conversation with the dispatcher, he went and unlocked the front door, leaving it open for the paramedics and took his place back at House's side. "House, I called the paramedics so it would be really great if you could wake up now and cuss me out," Wilson said, shaking House's shoulder again.

He got a response in the form of a groan. Wilson grabbed his penlight from his kit and checked House's pupils; they were sluggish, but reactive. House groaned again at the bright light in his eyes.

"Come on, buddy, wake up for me."

Another groan and a hand came up to try and bat the light away. "Almost there, House, show me those blue eyes I love so much."

Slowly, House opened his eyes and tried to focus on Wilson, his vision was blurry and he had a thumping headache, but nothing compared to the searing pain in his leg. He almost wished for the blackness again when he hadn't been able to feel the pain.

"There we go, you had a fall, cut open your head, but your BP's low and you're a bit tachy so I called an ambulance," Wilson told him, gently, putting his hand on House's back to comfort him.

House couldn't move, the pain was just too much to bear, he opened his mouth to tell Wilson, but all that came out was a scream of pain.


	2. Pain

Wilson reacted quickly. He headed to the bedroom, opened the bottom drawer and pulled out the box that he knew contained House's secret stash of morphine. One night during their first few days of living together, he'd found it whilst looking for something else and had confronted House. For once, his lover had been honest about what it was and asked him to put it back in case he needed it in the near future. And he needed it now.

House was no longer screaming when he returned to the bathroom, but whimpering in agony, biting at his lip to stop himself from screaming again. Wilson gently rolled him onto his back, avoiding his right leg altogether in the hope that he would not cause the man more discomfort. He saw House wince as he lay back on the cold tiles and shiver slightly. Wilson cursed himself for not thinking about covering House's nakedness before now and swore that he'd grab a dressing gown once he'd dealt with House's pain.

He drew up a dose of morphine, grabbed House's arm, tied the tourniquet around it, searched for a vein, inserted the needle and then glanced at his watch as he slowly pushed the medication into his system. After a few minutes, he could tell from the way House's body relaxed and his eyes calmed down that the dose of morphine had eased some of his discomfort. Once he was done with the morphine, he drew up some Compazine and slowly pushed that as well to stop side effects of the narcotic from rearing their ugly heads.

He left House briefly to grab the dressing gown from the bedroom and helped him cover himself up, knowing they didn't have long before the paramedics arrived.

"What happened?" Wilson asked, softly, once House was in his dressing gown.

"Leg. Cramp. Fell," was all House could manage to say. He was starting to feel the sedative effects of both the morphine and the Compazine and was struggling to stay awake.

"Hey, I know they're making you sleepy, but stay with me House. Just until the paramedics arrive."

"You called the paramedics?"

"Yeah, I told you that already, didn't I?"

"I don't remember." Wilson clicked on his penlight again and checked House's pupils, his confusion making him worry about a head injury. He inflated the BP cuff again and got a reading of 85/55, lower than before and more worrying too. Though some of it would be because of the morphine, he was still concerned. They needed to get some fluids into him to bring his BP up before it got much lower. Otherwise, House would be in big trouble. There was obviously something more going on than just the after effects of a fall.

The paramedics arrived just as Wilson was getting ready to do another BP check. He'd decided to check it every five minutes until they turned up so that he could call again if it got much worse. During that time, House had been in and out of consciousness, some of which he could attribute to the medications he'd given him and the rest to the shock of the fall.

"Someone call for paramedics?" a voice called out from the hallway.

"Through here!" Wilson called back, not wanting to leave House when he still wasn't fully with it. "The paramedics are here now, House. We'll get you sorted soon, I promise."

"What happened?" one of the paramedics asked.

"I'm Dr. James Wilson and this is my colleague, Dr. Gregory House. He had an infarction in the right thigh seven years ago and took a fall following a cramp in that leg. I've given him 7mg IV morphine and 2.5mg IV Compazine. His breathing is shallow, he's tachycardic and his BP is 85/55. I think he's going into shock; he's struggling to stay with me. He may have a slight concussion from the fall. I want to get him started on IV fluids to bring up his BP and once we're on the road. I'll call ahead to PPTH and arrange a bed for him," Wilson told them, keeping one eye on House the whole time. His eyes were open, but Wilson could tell he was still having trouble focusing.

"I'll start the IV now, while you get the gurney," the paramedic said to his partnet, putting down his bag of supplies. There was no way House would be walking out to the ambulance.

Wilson watched as the paramedic managed to find a vein and slip in the IV needle, which got no response from House – something that made him even more concerned. There was definitely something going on here that couldn't be explained by the fall.

Once the IV was in and secured, the paramedic attached a bag of saline and asked Wilson if he could hold it up so that it would flow though nicely. He set the flow rate up to high, hoping that it would have a positive effect on House's BP.

The other paramedic arrived back with the gurney and Wilson leaned down to House ear and said softly, "we're going to move you now, Greg. Let me know if it causes you any discomfort. We'll go slow."

House acknowledged him with a shake of the head, which could have meant 'no, don't move me' or 'yes, I understand', it was hard to tell in his confused state.

It took Wilson and both the paramedics ten minutes to safely secure House to the gurney, he'd groaned in pain when they'd moved his right leg, but hadn't put up a fight, which made Wilson all the more concerned because this just wasn't the House he knew and loved.

While the paramedics were loading House into the ambulance, Wilson called Cuddy to arrange a room. He didn't want House to suffer the indignity of being seen by an ER doctor before he could be comfortably settled into a room and the state he was in right now, told Wilson that it would probably just confuse and agitate him more. Cuddy was happy to arrange a private room and nurse for Wilson to check House over, as his physician of record she said she'd be up to see how he was doing once they were settled in.

The ride took fifteen minutes. Wilson kept a hand on House's shoulder at all times and an eye on the monitor. The tachycardia had yet to resolve itself and House's oxygen saturations were borderline. His BP still hadn't risen to an acceptable level, but was at least higher than it was back at the apartment, which Wilson put down to the fact that House was now receiving fluids and had probably been a little dehydrated.

House woke up once during the ride and seemed more confused than before.

"Wilson, why are we on the bus?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"You had a fall, we're taking you to the hospital for a check up, that's all. Don't worry," Wilson said, calmly, squeezing House's shoulder gently to comfort the man.

"Why the bus?"

"It's an ambulance, House."

"Oh. Can we go home now?"

"Not yet. Soon, I promise." Wilson felt like he was placating a child, but House in shock looked his age. His eyes were dull, the spark gone and he looked so vulnerable that Wilson wanted to wrap him up in a hug and never let him go. He hoped the confusion would pass soon. The longer it stayed, the more worried he became about his partner.

They arrived at PPTH and the paramedics dutifully followed Wilson as he guided them to what would be House's room. There was a nurse waiting for them inside, probably had been waiting since his call to Cuddy. They lifted House onto the waiting bed and Wilson fussed about making him comfortable before starting to attach him to the monitor, he didn't even notice the paramedics leave.

The monitor showed that House's heart rate was 125, his oxygen saturation was 92 and his blood pressure was still 90/60 – meaning that the fluids weren't helping as much as they should have been. Before he could order any more medication for House, Cuddy appeared. "What happened?"

"All I've managed to get out of him is that his right leg cramped and he fell in the shower. He hit his head and is pretty confused still; I think he may have a concussion. His BP is still low despite IV fluids, I'm worried about complications so I was going to order an MRI of his leg and a CT scan for the concussion," Wilson explained. Just to prove his point, House opened his eyes and looked at him.

"Wilson, can we go home yet?" House asked, his voice sounding confused and child-like.

"Not yet, House, just a little longer," Wilson replied, softly. Cuddy gave him a worried look.

"He needs a full neuro exam, and a CT. Draw the usual bloods while I arrange a scan. Make sure to keep an eye on those vitals, we might need to start him on some O2 and get an ECG if the fluids don't bring up the pressure quickly and the tachycardia remains. Want me to call Foreman to do the neuro?" Cuddy asked.

"No, I don't want his team to know he's here until he's more with it. I'll check out his leg too, see if there's anything there that would have caused him to fall," Wilson told her, turning back to face House.

"I'll leave you to it," Cuddy said, quietly.


	3. Lumps and Bumps

"House, I'm gonna need you to try and stay awake so I can do a full neuro exam. I'm worried you've got a concussion," Wilson said, loudly.

"Then I can go home?" House asked, forcing his eyes to stay open, but still not focusing.

"Maybe, after a few tests. I just want to make sure you're not in shock and you haven't done yourself any further damage to that leg," Wilson explained, hoping that the doctor in House would understand.

"Okay, whatever you feel is best," House said, still struggling to focus.. Part of his brain told him to reassure Wilson that he was fine. The morphine had taken care of the cramp and apart from feeling a bit confused he was fine, but he also knew that Wilson wouldn't take no for an answer and there was obviously a reason for that.

Wilson did the neuro exam on House and noted the results. From that, he could tell that House's mental status was altered. He seemed like he may still be shocky from the fall, and the ophthalmic exam revealed papilledema. This sign of increased intracranial pressure worried Wilson and he knew they needed that CT sooner rather than later. The next step of the examination was to check House's right leg and Wilson hoped that with the morphine still coursing through his veins it wouldn't cause him too much discomfort.

"I'm going to take a look at that leg now, see if there's a reason you fell. Let me know if I hurt you," Wilson said, looking at House, who nodded, before leaning back against the pillows and sighing. He looked so old and frail that Wilson wanted to take him home, and put him in his own bed, but he knew that he had to sort out whatever the problem was. From the looks of things, it wasn't just a fall. There seemed to be something a lot more sinister going on, and the fall was just the beginning of a load of symptoms.

Wilson pulled back the covers and uncovered House's right leg. The valley in his thigh where there used to be muscle stared back at him, and for a moment, he was drawn back to the talk House had given to the med students shortly after Stacy had arrived back on the scene. Wilson recalled the way he had spoken of his own experience – one that Wilson hadn't been there for – but had never given away to the students that it was himself he was talking about. He'd often wondered if it was Stacy's return that had prompted that speech. Her betrayal had run deep, but hadn't he done the same when he'd made the deal with Tritter? Wilson shook the thoughts out of his head. He couldn't afford to get himself caught up in the past when House needed him now.

He felt gently up and down the whole of House's leg, barring the thigh, which he knew would be too painful for House to bear. He checked House's sensation and pulses, but held off on checking his reflexes. He then moved into a more thorough check of the leg, and as he palpated along the tibia, he felt a solid mass near its upper border. He could feel very faint pulsations at the mass, and documented it in House's chart. He hoped that Cuddy rushed the MRI as well.

"I'm just going to check your thigh House. I know it's painful, but let me know if it gets too much for you and I'll give you some more morphine.."

There was some swelling on the thigh, but that wasn't necessarily abnormal for House, especially, after the fall he'd had. The lump he had felt was concerning. It hadn't been hot and House had no fever, so it was unlikely that it was just osteomyelitis or another infection. As an Oncologist, he knew it could very well be a benign mass. After all, a malignant tumor in the long bones was very rare in people House's age, but only a detailed MRI and bone biopsy would say for sure. He turned to the nurse and asked her to page Cuddy urgently to House's room. She gave him a small smile, asked if there was anything else he needed.

"Can you grab me a catheter kit, 6mg of morphine, some Compazine, ice chips and another bag of saline? This one is about to run out and we need to keep him hydrated," Wilson told her. She happily complied and left the room.

House was biting his lip to keep from crying out. The morphine from earlier was wearing off and Wilson's probing at his thigh and leg hadn't helped. It was starting to cramp again. He tried to say something, but Wilson got there first.

"I've ordered some more morphine, House. It'll be here soon. House, I know you're really confused right now, but I need you to listen to me as much as you can. Okay?" House nodded, trying his best to focus on Wilson's face. "I've found a mass on your proximal tibia. We're going to need to do an MRI and bone biopsy to confirm, but you need to know it could be malignant."

House tried to take it all in, but failed. His head was fuzzy and he couldn't concentrate. All he could think about was the pain in his leg and how it felt similar to his infarction, which though he would never admit it, scared the hell out of him.

"I want to go home," he said, once he'd found his voice.

"House, you're not going anywhere. You could have cancer. You definitely have a concussion, and could have swelling on your brain. Your BP is in the tank, your sats are borderline and you're still tachycardic. Surely, even you can see that you're not going anywhere until we get to the bottom of this."

Before House could say anymore, the nurse arrived back with a trolley carrying a jug of ice chips, a catheter kit, a bag of saline and two syringes. He eyed the pile carefully before looking at Wilson.

"Why the catheter?"

Wilson didn't answer him at first, too busy preparing the syringes and a few tubes so that he could take House's blood and have it tested at the lab – it would help rule out cancer, or at least he hoped it would. He took the cap off the morphine syringe and started to slowly push it into House's IV. "The catheter is because you're not exactly mobile and I'd like to keep an eye on what's going in and out for a while. Is that okay?" he replied, once he was done pushing the morphine. He repeated the procedure with the Compazine. "I also want you to wear oxygen for a while. Just until we get your sats up." He expected House to complain, but he lay back and let Wilson attach the nasal cannula and set the flow, saying nothing. He didn't even say anything when Wilson started to draw blood. He was watching House, who was slowly relaxing into the realm of no pain. His sats were slowly rising with the oxygen flowing up his nose.

Wilson handed the bloods to the nurse and told her to tell the lab that they needed the results urgently. "While we're alone, I'm going to put this catheter in, okay?"

House said nothing, which Wilson took to mean that it was okay. So, he set about preparing it and before long it was in place and hanging over the side of the bed. He'd hung a new bag of saline when Cuddy arrived.

"What's the problem?" she asked.

"I found a mass in his leg, we need a detailed MRI of that and a CT of his head. I think there may be some swelling, which could account for the confusion."

"You're thinking cancer?"

"I won't know until I can do a bone biopsy and I can't do that until I'm sure of the placement."

"But it's one of the diagnoses?"

"It could be."

"I'll phone down and push forward that MRI, we can do the CT scan at the same time, save moving him more than once."

"I just gave him 6mg of morphine so he should be comfortable for a while."

"I'll see if we can take him down now, then." Cuddy disappeared into the hallway, leaving Wilson alone with House, who was once again unconscious. Wilson didn't know if it was true unconsciousness or just the effect of the morphine and Compazine that had made him pass out. He debated waking him to tell him that he'd soon be going down for an MRI and CT scan, but decided against it when he saw that House looked comfortable for the first time since the fall.

Cuddy returned with a porter following her. "They can do him now, but only if we get him there in the next five minutes."

Wilson nodded and set about detaching House from the monitors. He attached the oxygen tubing to a portable tank, which he placed next to House's left leg so there was no chance of it irritating the already sore right one. The IV pole was already attached to the bed so all there was left to do was put the side bars up so that neither House nor the portable oxygen went flying as they transferred him down to the MRI machine.

Surprisingly, there was no wait. Perhaps the techs had heard that it was the great Dr. House they were scanning and had cleared the place in case he upset the fellow patients. Whatever the reason, Wilson was glad because it meant that House could be lifted straight into the machine and dealt with while the morphine dose was still high in his system.

House woke up as they were loading him into the MRI machine and through the haze of confusion, he was back where he'd been seven years ago, at the time of the infarction.

"Where's Stacy?" he asked Wilson who was fussing with the IV tubing, making sure it wouldn't pull on House's line once the machine started moving.

"She's not here, House. It's just you and me now."

"Did they take my leg?"

"No, House, they didn't. Sssh, stay still now. They need to get a clear picture of your leg to make sure nothing is wrong with it." Wilson went to move into the observation room when House's arm shot out and grabbed him.

"Don't leave me," House pleaded. Wilson knew that it was probably the concussion talking, but House looked so scared that he nodded and squeezed House's hand. He only let go to grab a chair so he could sit down. He took hold of House's hand again, and nodded to the tech that it was okay to start the MRI machine.

House didn't talk throughout the whole procedure and had it not been for the fact that he occasionally squeezed Wilson's hand to check that he was still there, Wilson would have thought House had fallen asleep. The scan took about a half hour. House was then lifted back onto his bed and led to the CT scanner where he did the same thing and made Wilson promise to stay with him.

It was only when they got back to House's room and he was able to relax and let the morphine take care of the discomfort he felt from being moved several times that he fell back to sleep. This gave Wilson a chance to go and look at the MRI and CT results and shed some light on what was wrong with House. 


	4. Testing

The MRI showed that House had three tumors on the bones in his leg. Without a bone biopsy of all three, there was no way Wilson could be sure that it wasn't cancer. He had a pretty good idea about placement which would make the whole procedure that much easier. There wasn't any good news on the CT scan either. It showed some swelling of the meninges, which explained the confusion and House's inability to stay awake for long periods of time. Cuddy stood next to him, reading the scans and turned to face him once she was done.

"How's his BP?" she asked.

"No change."

"How many bags is that?"

"He's on number three, but he's not producing as much urine as I'd like," Wilson told her.

"You have thought about the fact that as his partner you shouldn't really be treating him?" Cuddy asked, her eyebrows raised.

"You saw him in the MRI room. I can't leave him to someone else. He may have cancer. If the tables were turned and I had something wrong with me, the only doctor I would want near me is him. I'm not leaving him in his time of need," Wilson said, fuming slightly. Now was not the time for Cuddy to bring up the ethics of the situation, House wasn't about to sue so what did it matter?

"Okay, but I had to say something."

"No, you didn't."

"Okay, maybe I didn't, but someone was going to ask eventually and I needed to know where you stood on the whole thing."

"If it's that much of a problem, you can oversee my decisions. If you don't trust me, that is."

"You realize you sound more like House every day, don't you?"

"He's rubbing off on me."

"I trust you, Wilson. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of the ethics of your decision to treat your partner."

"Screw the ethics."

"When are you going to do the biopsy?" Cuddy asked, changing the subject. She knew that this was an argument she couldn't win and decided it was best to just focus on House's case and diagnosis.

"I'd rather not do it while he's still so confused and disorientated. Or while his BP is still so low. At the same time, with three tumors already developed, there's a chance of it spreading. I'd rather keep on top of it, if entirely possible."

"Can't you wait for the blood test results to come back?"

"I could, but they aren't always the best way to diagnose bone cancer. If he has osteosarcoma, it might not show in the test results."

"You think that's likely?"

"It's rare for someone House's age, but it is the most likely diagnosis given the placement of the tumors."

"I'd suggest trying another few bags of saline to bring up that blood pressure and if that doesn't work start him on pressors. It might be an idea to do a full body MRI if he's still not producing urine in case the cancer has spread already."

"I don't like to think it has, but there's a chance this isn't a primary cancer as it is. The bone cancer could be the spread. The concussion should pass in a few days, but if not, I'll get a neurologist to look at him. Probably Foreman because he knows House and I don't want to confuse him even more by giving him a doctor he doesn't know."

"It sounds like you've already convinced yourself to do the bone biopsy as soon as possible. I know it's going to be painful for him, especially the ones in the thigh, but wouldn't it be best to do it now rather than wait and risk a spread?"

"I think because of the extreme pain it will cause him, it'll be best to sedate him for the whole procedure." Cuddy nodded. "I'll arrange it today."

Wilson left Cuddy in the hallway with House's scans and headed back to House's room. He found him sleeping. The catheter bag was still practically empty, which made Wilson worry that there was something preventing House from urinating. He was also worried about the lack of change in his BP. House normally had a normal range BP and for him to be this hypotensive for this long was beyond normal.

He pulled a stool out from under the counter and lowered the bar on one side of House's bed. He gently shook his partner's shoulder to wake him. House woke up slowly and took a while to work out where he was. He saw Wilson which relaxed him. After all, nothing could go wrong if he had Jimmy looking after him. Wilson wouldn't let anything bad happen to him.

"Hey, House. I need to talk to you," Wilson said, smiling.

"Pain. Bad," was all House could manage to say.

"In your leg? I'll get you something." Wilson pressed the buzzer that was connected to the nurse's station. When someone answered he ordered another 7mg of morphine for House, as well as 5mg of Compazine to keep the nausea at bay.

House squeezed Wilson's hand as he waited for the painkiller, trying hard to focus on Wilson's face. He looked worried and concerned, and tightly gripped his hand back.

"What's wrong?" House asked when he found his voice over the pain.

"I'll tell you once we've got your pain under control," Wilson replied, not wanting to upset House while he was obviously in a lot of pain.

House nodded and bit his lip to keep from crying out. He hoped that Wilson had some kind of answer as to what was causing his leg to be in so much pain because he was really starting to worry about it. He kept having flashbacks to his infarction and he didn't think he could cope if Wilson told him he was having another one. He couldn't lose his leg, not now, not after all that he'd been through over the past seven years.

The nurse arrived with the drugs drawn up and Wilson set about slowly injecting them into House's line. House visibly relaxed once the narcotics hit his system and Wilson took his seat back at House's side.

"Tell me what the scans showed," House slurred slightly.

"You have some swelling around your brain, causing the confusion and problems staying awake."

"That's not what's making your face to look like that."

"We also found some tumors in your right leg. I'm going to book a room and have Dr. Suarez do a biposy on them later today. He specializes in orthopedic oncology. You'll be sedated because two of the masses are in the femur and the procedure is painful enough without preexisting muscle and nerve damage."

"You think I have cancer?"

"House, I'm pretty sure you have cancer. The tests will confirm it, but I'm worried that it might not be the primary cancer. Have you had any problems passing urine recently?"

"The Vicodin doesn't help that."

"I know, but we might need to scan your kidneys to check there's no cancer there too."

"Am I going to die?"

"House, I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that doesn't happen, but you've got to trust me on that. It's going to be hard for a while. You trust me, don't you?" Wilson asked, squeezing House's hand again.

"Trust you," House repeated, closing his eyes and losing the battle to stay conscious again. Wilson stayed close to House until he was sure he was under and then left to arrange House's biopsy. 


	5. Results

House's blood pressure rose slowly over the next two hours, not high enough to be considered out of the woods, but enough that Wilson felt he could undergo the biopsy without too much danger. Despite being on his fifth bag of saline, he still wasn't producing enough urine to keep Wilson from worrying that there might be a problem with his kidneys.

The biopsy room was booked and ready. Wilson had enlisted Chase's help for the procedure. He'd spoken to House's fellows and they'd all wanted to help as much as they could, but Wilson had told them that for the moment, House was best left to his care. He had asked Chase for his help because he was the best one for the job, just as he'd asked Foreman for a second opinion on House's CT scan. 

Thankfully, Cameron had been too busy looking over his results to become personally involved with House's case. She'd offered to sit with him, but Wilson had said that he was so confused at the moment that it was best to keep his visitors to a minimum. He had silently been thankful that ever since they'd come clean about the true details of their relationship, Cameron had seemed to get over her little crush on her boss.

House was only half conscious when they moved him from his private room to the procedure room to perform the biopsy. When he had woken up, he'd been alone, which didn't help his confusion. He kept looking for Wilson, but couldn't find him. Things worsened when he saw Chase.

"What's going on?" House demanded, still looking around for Wilson – who was scrubbing up with the other staff members involved in the bone biopsy. Chase had prepared himself for his boss's condition, but was still shocked at how frail he looked.

"We're going to do the biopsy now, House," Chase explained, speaking softly to try and calm him down.

"Where's Wilson?"

"He's just scrubbing up."

"You're taking my leg off aren't you?" House said, starting to panic. His heart rate rose as he spoke, and his oxygen sats slowly decreased as he got more and more wound up.

"House, calm down. We're doing a biopsy, remember, Wilson explained it to you earlier," Chase replied, trying to keep his boss calm as he kept an eye on the monitors.

"I won't let you take my leg," House yelled, getting more agitated by the second. He started pulling at the wires and tried to sit up. His leg throbbed with pain, but he didn't care. All he cared about was finding Wilson and getting away from Chase with his leg intact. He pulled at the IV, detaching it, the saline dripping uselessly into his bed. He tired to swing his legs over the side of the bed, but both the bars were up and he hit his right one on the metal bar and howled out in pain. Wilson rushed into the room when he heard this. He was ready to observe the biopsy, but not ready for the scene in front of him.

"What the hell happened?" he asked Chase, as he headed to House's side. House was lying back on the bed, his brow covered in sweat, gasping for breath with an alarmingly high heart rate.

"He got confused when he saw you weren't here. He thought we were going to take off his leg, pulled out his IV, tried to get up to leave and hit his leg on the side of the bed," Chase explained as he watched Wilson assess the damage.

"I need a set of vitals, some morphine, a new IV, and we're going to have to calm him down before we sedate him. I'm not happy with his present state," Wilson said, barking out orders at Chase, who complied almost immediately. He headed to the cart and pulled out a new IV set, whilst preparing to take House's vitals. At the same time, he repeated Wilson's orders for drugs to the nurse who hurriedly pulled them out of the drug cart.

"House, listen to me. I need you to calm down," Wilson said, softly, reaching out to stroke his lover's forehead.

"You can't have my leg," House said, slurring his speech slightly.

"We're not taking the leg, I promise you. We just need to do a test on it, remember?"

"You won't let them have it?" House asked, sounding almost child-like.

"Of course not, Greg. I wouldn't do anything like that," Wilson promised, whilst silently praying that if it was cancer, they didn't have to take the leg because it really was a promise he didn't want to break.

"Can I go home now?" House asked, still sounding like a small child. He was so confused, his head hurt, and he couldn't focus properly.

Wilson sighed, he knew the mood swings and confusion were part of the concussion, but right now he wished he had the old House back, the House who would argue with him over things. Because at least then, he'd know he hadn't lost the man he fell in love with completely. The House before him now was nothing like that. He seemed frail, child-like, and totally lost, and Wilson wasn't sure what the best thing to do to comfort him was.

"Heart rate is 110, sats are 95 on oxygen and his BP's 100/60," Chase reported.

"Okay, House, we're going to have to restart the IV. You need the fluids and then the anesthesiologist is going to give you some more medication so you're not in pain during the biopsy, that sound okay?" Wilson said, taking in the numbers Chase had given him, but not really acknowledging that there was anyone else in the room besides House and him.

House closed his eyes to stop the room spinning and nodded. He felt Wilson take his arm, palpating the skin to find a vein and then tie off the tourniquet. There was a sharp prick of the needle and then he could feel it being secured, before the cool rush of a saline flush. He kept his eyes closed as he heard the others fuss around with drugs.

"All right, we're starting the anesthesia now House," Wilson said, as the anesthesiologist set to work. "Don't worry, it's just enough to make you sleep through the biopsy." Due to House's concussion, it was best to have an anesthesiologist present to monitor him for the length of the biopsy. House could feel the change of syringes and then the rush of another liquid going into his veins. He felt the tug of the sedative pulling at him to sleep, but he fought against it, desperate to stay where Wilson was.

"Don't. Sleep. Wilson," he slurred as the full effect of the drug started to hit.

"Just relax, House, let it do its job. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?"

"I swear, sleep now and when you wake up, it'll all be over," Wilson's said in a comforting tone. He watched as House's face went slack and he slipped into a deep sleep. 

Once he was sure House was out, he removed his hand from his lover's grasp and went to rescrub for the procedure. "Watch his vitals," he said to Chase, who nodded.

Wilson reappeared within a few minutes. House was flat on the bed with his right leg exposed. The MRI was up on the board so that they had some idea about placement. He saw the equipment had all been opened and readied for Dr. Suarez. All he could do now was watch them drill a hole into the leg and take a sample of the tumors for testing.

As Suarez took the first sample and handed it to Chase to be prepared for the lab, Wilson prayed to a God he only spoke to on special occasions that for once, his instincts were wrong and he wasn't about to diagnose House with bone cancer.

* * *

Once the procedure was over, a sleeping House was moved back to his private room where Wilson kept a bedside vigil, wanting to be there when he woke up so as to avoid the same problem that had arisen in the operating room. The concussion wasn't severe, but had caused obvious swelling to the brain and until that was resolved there would still be confusion, blurred vision and the sleepiness that House was experiencing. Wilson could only hope that it would be resolved within the next few days and House would return to his normal self. Not that that would make it any easier to treat him, but Wilson at least had more experience dealing with that House than the imposter he was treating at the moment.

As House slept, the three small slices of tumor from House's right leg were being tested, a rush job on Wilson's orders because he was still concerned about House's kidneys. His urine output had improved in the last few hours, but not enough for Wilson to be sure something more sinister wasn't going on.

House was still sleeping three hours later when Chase appeared at the door with the biopsy results in his hands.

"I thought you'd want these as soon as possible," he said, handing the file to Wilson who nodded, thanking him. "I'll leave you to it, page us if you need anything. I know you don't want to leave him until he's awake, but it could still be a while before he's fully aware of what's going on."

"Thanks, Chase," Wilson replied, dismissing him and opening the file. The results stared back at him and his world came crashing down around him. House had Osteosarcoma, stage three from the placement and size of the tumors. The only good news was that it was a primary bone cancer, which limited the chances of a spread though he would have to check House's lymph nodes to be sure it hadn't spread.

He'd have to talk to Suarez and consult with other orthopedists, but from the size and placement, he couldn't see that limb salvage surgery was going to work. That meant he was about to break a promise he had made less than an few hours ago…House was going to lose his leg.


	6. House and Wilson Talk

House woke up an hour after the results had arrived, Wilson was still at his side, but he'd sent Chase to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee to help him stay awake. He was still sipping quietly on the coffee when he saw those baby, blue eyes staring back at him.

"House? You're awake?" Wilson asked, knowing the question was stupid, but House hadn't really been with it the past couple of hours.

"You promised you would stay," House murmured, he wasn't making much sense until Wilson remembered the promise he'd made House in the procedure room that he would be here when House woke up from the bone biopsy.

"I did and here I am. Let me just check you over and then we can talk, okay?" Wilson said, putting down his coffee and House's chart and checking his eyes with his penlight. House flinched away from the light, but that was normal with the type of concussion House had. Next Wilson checked the contents of House's catheter bag, which was suddenly a lot fuller than it had been before the procedure which meant that whatever the problem had been with his bladder or kidneys was either not there now, or was laying dormant.

"Do you know where you are?" Wilson asked House, who had temporarily closed his eyes. "House, wake up."

"I'm awake," House said, opening his eyes again.

"Can you tell me where you are?"

"I'm in bed."

Wilson laughed, it reminded him so much of the old House, the one before the accident that had left him seeming like a stranger because of the concussion. "I know that, but do you know why?"

"I had a fall at home and you brought me here in an ambulance, really, Wilson, if you wanted to get me to come to hospital you could have just asked Cuddy to wear a low cut blouse and no bar…that woulda brought me running!" House told him, a twinkle in his eye. So, the old House was back and apart from the headache the concussion seemed to have resolved itself.

"I need you to be serious for a moment; can you remember what procedure we did a few hours ago?" Wilson asked, part of him hoping that House could remember Wilson finding three lumps in his bad leg so he didn't have to tell him again and the other part of him wished he had forgotten so that he didn't have to remember.

"I've had an MRI, a CT, I think and most recently, the lovely Dr. Suarez took samples of some tumours you found in my femur, there were three, I think. In my bad leg, the right one."

"I know which one is your bad leg, House you don't have to remind me."

"So, how bad is it?" House asked, looking solemn.

"The biopsy showed that you have Osteosarcoma – bone cancer."

"How bad?"

"Stage three, I'd say from the size of them, I'd also say it's a primary cancer and that we've caught it before its spread, but to be sure I'll have to get a biopsy of your lymph nodes and earlier on you weren't producing enough urine for what fluids we were giving you so I'd like to do a scan of your kidneys, if that's okay?"

"No scan, I've been poked and prodded enough for one day, thanks."

"House…" Wilson started in his, annoying, 'I only ask because I care' voice.

"Ask me tomorrow, when I've had a decent nights sleep."

"Okay, but the lymph node thing can't wait, I'll get Suarez to do it in a couple of hours, how does that sound?"

"Why can't you do it?"

"Ethics. I'm your boyfriend, life partner, whatever you want to call it and I think it would be best if the tests were done by members of my team and not me, is that okay with you?"

"Okay, just don't think about leaving me alone with any of them."

"I promise I won't."

"What aren't you telling me?" House asked, watching Wilson's face. He'd been fine when they'd been talking about how the cancer may have spread, but now that was over and the tests were arranged it was time to talk about treatments and House could sense that he wasn't going to like what Wilson had to offer.

"In terms of treatment, the tumors are deep in your bone, we can't operate to get them out or do 'limb salvage surgery' as we call it."

"What does that mean? Chemo and radiation? Make me sick and make me glow?"

"You'll have chemo, of course, but House, the best option may be to amputate," Wilson said, softly, praying that House both heard and didn't.

House's face closed down. He went rigid. "You are not taking my leg."

"House, this cancer is aggressive, the fact that you're not even in the risk groups means you've been really unlucky this time, but it's in your leg, any surgery we do will just inhibit your mobility even more, and it cuts your chance of survival down to such a small percentage," Wilson ranted, desperate for House to see it from his point of view.

"You are not having my leg," House repeated, leaning back on his pillow and closing his eyes. "Arrange the lymph node biopsy for a couple of hours from now, I'm going to sleep." That was it, as far as House was concerned the conversation was over and Wilson didn't know what else to do but to concoct a treatment plan that didn't involve amputation.

He left House to sleep and phoned Dr. Suarez to arrange a time for him to do a lymph node biopsy on House. Sure enough, two hours later, House was awake and prepped for the biopsy, Wilson was on one side of him and Suarez on the other with the ling, thin needle that would go into his neck and take a sample of the lymph node for testing in the lab.

"Do you want a shot of lidocaine?" Wilson asked, before Suarez could.

"Nope, I'm a big boy," House replied and nodded at Suarez to begin the procedure.

It was over with in minutes and they had their sample for testing. Everything was cleared away and once Suarez had left, Wilson stayed to get House comfortable for the night. "House, please think about the amputation, it may be the only thing to save your life," Wilson half whispered. He got no response from House, but he knew that the man had heard him.

As he turned to leave, House sighed deeply. "Can you stay for a little while, my head still hurts and it's boring here with nothing to do."

"Of course, I'll stay," Wilson said, hoping that maybe this was the time to bring up his whispered words. "You heard me, didn't you, House?"

"Heard what?" House asked, sounding oblivious, but Wilson knew him well and could tell when he was acting.

"You heard me tell you to consider the amputation…"Wilson started.

"Dammit! I told you that conversation was over."

"Do you want to die, House? Because if you do, you're doing a damn good job of it!"

"I don't want to lose my leg, why is that so hard for people to understand?"

"I don't know, all I know is that you have a stage three, aggressive cancer in a leg that gives you nothing but problems and yet you don't welcome the chance to be rid of it!"

"I didn't want an amputation then and I sure as hell, don't want one now! As my lover, my partner, my DOCTOR, you should _respect_ that!"

"I know, and I will, but as a doctor yourself, you should realise that there is little chance of limb salvage surgery considering your pre-existing condition of the leg. It's dying House; don't let it take you with it!"

"Leave me alone."

"House…"

"I mean it, Jimmy, fuck off." Wilson sighed, he didn't know what to do, so he did the only thing he could and sat down in the chair where he'd sat waiting for House to wake up following the bone biopsy. He wasn't going to let House push him away, no matter how hard he tried.


End file.
